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Show f BLACK SOMBRERO CLIFFORD KNIGHT- .ztiu 1 farther along the Boulevard when Reed Barton and I watched an outraged actor smash a window and tear his own mug to pieces while a curious figure in an incredible in-credible sports coat and a pink shirt looked on appraisingly. For the caricature pinned to the bottom bot-tom of the drawer was that of Sam Chatfield. 'Note the eyes, Barry. The whole expression is malevolent, crafty, designing, cruel. The sombrero she hadn't quite finished it, had she? But what an evil thing she makes of it huge and black!" A sudden chill descended my spine.- "Do you think she knew that her father was guilty?" I asked. Rogers for reply ripped the caricature car-icature from its pins, tore it into shreds and the wind snatched it from his hands and whirled it down upon the lonely, widening sea. ' "I'll never know, Barry. Because I'll never ask her." (THE END) knife was In my room at the hoteH the morning I was arrested. Later, when I went to get my things together to-gether for a fishing trip, I looked for the knife to take with me but it was gone. I did not see it again until I found t on Senor Lombar-do's Lombar-do's desk at headquarters." "Do you accuse anybody?" "No. But there is this to think about: While I was in jail, I asked Mr. Chatfield to get my watch from my room at the hotel. He brought it to me a couple of hours later. I've since investigated that , Mr. Chatfield is the only one who visited my room and could have taken it. It's been a tough spot for me. Loving Elsa, am I the one to accuse her father? That's why I've kept still." "Ah, so?" breathed Lombardo. "Felipe," the conversation shifted shift-ed swiftly into Spanish as Rogers at last addressed the older of the two mariachis, "I want you to answer an-swer some questions." "Si, senor." "Did Senoa Chatfield send you and Pancho with a note to the rancho?" "Yes, sir." "Tell us what happened." "Well Pancho and I go to the rancho in a taxi, senor, and bring back to the wharf some things in a package they give us. We take it to the Filipino waiting with the launch and he gives us some money mon-ey for our trouble, goes down, to the launch and the launch goes out to the ship." "Did you see anything of Senora Chatfield when you returned to the wharf?" "No, sir. And when the launch is gone, Pancho and I go toward the town. Just as we are leaving the wharf the senor with the big sombrero som-brero and the fine clothes he passes pass-es us going out onto the wharf. And behind him not very far is weapon after him, and then re-' turned to meet the others of the party at the hotel?" "Yes, Senor Rogers, I am satis-fled." satis-fled." - ' "The death of Sam Chatfield can have been only an accident. It occurred oc-curred before the fate of George Rumble was known, and for that reason confused me. A perfectly natural accident' I should say, and a fate justly due the man." "I agree, senor." Rogers abruptly left us and went to the companionway. He disappeared for a few minutes, then, returned carrying the huge black somberero with its silver ornaments. or-naments. He stopped before us, turned the hat upside down and his fingers slipped inside the sweatband. He drew out a slip of paper, and held it out to Lombardo. Lombar-do. "The handwriting is that of Rumble," he sad. I noted the immature, schoolboy writing I'd seen before. "You can verify it at the newspaper office. You will note the names in the following order: Madison, Barton, Rogers, Nichols Chatfield, Chesebro. Those are names of the men in this party, par-ty, excepting Rumble's. You note that every name is crossed out in the same heavy pencil line, except the name of Chatfeld. For what it's worth, it's the evidence, Senor Lombardo, offered by a dead hand. By what means he discovered Sam Chatfield's guilt we'll never know. The slip was found only last night." "I am satisfied, Senor Rogers," Lombardo repeated, rising. "I shall go ashore now and set Pedro free. He cannot be guilty now." As the two shook hands and went down the ladder, followed by Felipe and Pancho, the launch appeared ap-peared with Elsa, Margaret and Berta, eager now to come aboard), to leave Mazatlan behind them. They paused to say goodby to Lombardo and Doctor Cruz and the two boys, and then came up the ladder. We stowed the launch and lashed it down, and an hour or so later in the full sunshine that beat down upon us out of a hot sky we lifted anchor and dropped down stream toward the long swells of the open ocean. Later on Rogers and I stood together watching the fading line of the mountains, the high promontory prom-ontory with its lighthouse, the lavender lav-ender murk into which Mazatlan was sinking. We had been silent for a long timet. Finally I said: "Hunt, there's one more question. When did you first drop your suspicions sus-picions of Dwight and turn to Sam Chatfield as the murderer?" Without replying he left me and went into the lounge. I wondered What there was in my remark that could have brought this strange reaction. But a moment later he reappeared, carrying the wide, shallow drawer which Elsa the day of her father's death had used for a drawing board. He came alongside along-side me at the rail and turned the drawer bottom up. "This," he said. "She was working work-ing on a mug, if you remember, when we came aboard to tell her of her father's death. The drawer Was put back in. place. Probably under the stress of exitement she forgot it. I discovered it, however, how-ever, that night we found Rumble's Rum-ble's body in the bay, but it suggested sug-gested nothing until you and I sat talking the other night in the patio." As I gazed at the grotesque caricature, car-icature, I was taken back to Hollywood Holly-wood Boulevard when in a shop window I saw first Dwight's mug and then Chesebro's and my own. And of that unforgettable incident "And you didn't find him?" "No." "Did you go to the wharf?" "No." Dwight's face had slowly flushed underneath his tan. "I see what you're driving , at, Hunt," he said, his tone becoming a trifle sharp. "I have no alibi any more than Reed has, or Sam Chatfield." "Yes, I know." Lombardo stirred. "But," he pointed out, "Senor Chatfield is one of those who died." Rogers did not respond to this statement. We sat looking at him wonderingly. He seemed in no hurry to continue. Finally he said : "Perhaps, senor, we have made a wrong assumpton somewhere our discussion has not disclosed the murderer. Perhaps this testimony testi-mony you've just heard now seems rehearsed, senor; but I assure you it is not. I have realized that Dwight Nichols and Sam Chatfield could not have been in each other's company all that evening but I have not known the facts until now. We can go ahead. "Earlier," Rogers continued, a new note of confidence coming into in-to his voice, "I assumed that it was proper to exclude from suspicion suspi-cion all those persons who, subsequently subse-quently to Katherine Chatfield's death, died by violence. I named SYNOPSIS CHAPTER XIX: Rogers contin- .im his solution of the crimes. " m-dered them all, and that his S death was an accident. The ,1 yacht Orzaba sails for home. i CHAPTER XIX l J -The time Rumble died is impor-t.nt" impor-t.nt" he said. "The hands of his " Itch were stopped at nine-nino. Rut that is an impossible hour; j Rumble was aiive at that time and V. th us in the bar. He checked out t of the hotel at ten-thirty, and dis-ppeared. dis-ppeared. His body was found floating later near the wharf. His w discovered in the water at the Jl of the wharf, indicates that he was, in spite of his quarrel with Dwight Nichols, determined to go aboard the Orizaba and accompany accompa-ny us swordfishing the next day. Rumble was like that, senor; he was a strange man." Doctor Cruz's face wrinkled at the corners of his eyes, and he remarked, re-marked, "I observed as much, Senor Se-nor Rogers." "The hour of nine-nine has no meaning, unless we can explain it satisfactorily. That, I think, is quite simple. Of course, the watch could have stopped of itself, but I'm sure that's not the explanation. explana-tion. The first day ashore after the Orizama arrived in Mazatlan, we met Rumble on the street. The time of day was mentioned. He looked at his watch which did not agree with ine. In fact, I was two hours slow. He explained it by saying that he was still keeping keep-ing Los Angeles time which is two hours slower than Mazatlan time. "Now, then," Rogers went on earnestly, "assuming that, on the night he died, his watch was still keeping Los Angeles time, what does that signify? He must have died at eleven-nine. That simplifies simpli-fies things immensely. Where were we all at that time? Barry Madison and I at that time were on board the Orizaba. The others Elsa, Dwight Nichols, Sam Chatfield Chat-field and Reed Barton came on board about midnight. Reed Barton Bar-ton arrived alone at the wharf, having had to go around by his hotel for his things. Elsa, her father, and Dwight Nichols went to the wharf together. What time, Reed, did you reach the wharf?" "As I've said before," Reed began, a smile spreading over his features, "I don't know what time it was. Time meant very little to me that night." "How long had you been waiting when the others arrived?" "I'd have to guess, Hunt. Perhaps Per-haps twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour." , "Did you see anything of Rumble?" Rum-ble?" "No." Rogers turned to Dwight. "What time did you reach the wharf?" "Oh," said Dwight, "we left the hotel at a quarter to twelve. Went down in a taxi. Shouldn't have taken five minutes." "Now, this question, Dwight: After Barry and I left you and Sam Chatfield together, what hap-I hap-I pened? Were you together the re-: re-: mainder of the evening?" j Dwight was slow to answer At length he replied: "No. Sam and I separated at ten-thirty. He said there was something he had to do j ' yet before he could go aboard the Orizaba. He came back about an J hour later. It was eleven-thirty at any rate, when I met him again." i "Where was Elsa?" Chesebro, Sam Chatfield and Rumble Rum-ble as victims of and not the probable prob-able killer." "Yes, sir." "Consider for a moment Sam Chatfeld" "Senor Chatfield?" "Yes. He had a most excellent reason for killing his sister. Mrs. Nichols, some months ago said this of him: 'He clutched decency to himself with all the passion of a fierce new love.' So, then, had not his sister, an unmarried woman, disgraced the family by bearing a child? Had she not committeed an even greater wrong against his daughter Elsa? And so, did he not, perhaps, at last- finally decide de-cide that she must die? "To continue, Elsa did not know who was the father of the child until that memorable day she whipped Chesebro,. Could Sam Chatfield, therefore, have known this fact since his sister denied from the very first that the child was hers ? Was Chesebro a man to admit it to anyone, except possibly Elsa? "And so " Rogers drew from his pocket the rotogravure clipping clip-ping and gave it to Lombardo. "After Sam had died, I found this on his desk at the rancho. Senor T.nmhardo. vou did not knowl another senor following him. This is Senor Chatfield. Pancho and I recognize him but we do not speak. We are loafing on. the street near the wharf all the time, and soon Senor Chatfield comes walkng very fast toward the town. He does not see us. Pancho says: 'What is his hurry, Felipe?' and I say I do not know. Then I wonder if the senor with the fine clothes is still out on. the wharf. And I say to Pancho, 'Lets go and talk to the senor,' because he is un gran caba-llero, caba-llero, and perhaps we can sing for him. , "Well, senor, we go, Pancho and I. But he's not on the wharf. We think the launch has come and taken him, only the time is too short. But we do not know." Silence fell upon us at the conclusion con-clusion of this lengthy account. Rogers thanked the youth and turned to Lombardo. "Senor," he said, "are you satisfied, satis-fied, that when Sam Chatfield separated sep-arated from Dwight Nichols at the hotel that night, he followed George Rumble to the wharf because be-cause he feared that Rumble would tell what he knew, and killed him with the knife he had taken from Reed Barton's room? And threw the body from the wharf and tossed the bag and the Chesebo and therefore the point is lost upon you. But the child in the picture bears an unmistakable likeness to Chesebro. I know that Chesebro was the guilty man until Sam Chatfield did not know that this picture from the paper came into his possession. When it did, Chesebro already was in his house in bed and suffering a heart attack. at-tack. Dwight Nichols and Sam Chatfeld were of similar build and height. How easy for Pedro, if he did actually see Sam Chatield on his way to murder Chesebro, to confuse him with Nichols! "Reed" Rogers turned abruptly abrupt-ly to Reed Barton "your fish knife was used to kill Rumble. Can you explain that away?" Reed Barton sat stang over the rail at the town. He shifted his long legs and said : "I can tell you what I think happened, Hunt. The "She kept right on dancing after af-ter Reed left her, I believe. Some caballero took his place. Sam had to pry her loose from him when ne came back so we could go down to the wharf." "So you and Sam separated," said Rogers, as if appraising this interesting bit of information. Did Sam say what he had to do ?" No." '"What did you do in the meantime?" mean-time?" "1 watched the dancers at the notel or a while. Then I wandered j ut upon the streets, looked in at : the bars. I had it in. mind to find Rumble and see if I couldn't compose com-pose our misunderstanding. At . 'east I hoped I could get him to tt pedal on information, about "the night Katherine Chatfield ; was murdered." |